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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957683">sweetest poison</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggi/pseuds/eggi'>eggi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dancing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Other, Unhealthy Relationships, trigger warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:47:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggi/pseuds/eggi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>izuru and enoshima dance together in the wake of the apocalypse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enoshima Junko/Kamukura Izuru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sweetest poison</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ONCE AGAIN!!! HUGE TRIGGER WARNING!!! </p>
<p>this implies a toxic/abusive relationship, has blood/gore and injury, and dubcon/noncon. PLEASE read at your own risk. </p>
<p>i tried something new in writing style and tried making it seem.. darker? or shed light onto izuru i suppose. <br/>PLEASE read all the tags before reading this. i don't want anyone to read this work and get triggered. thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dancing was not a new thing. As dress shoes and platform boots careen, stepped around broken shards of glass, around pools of blood, organs, limbs, it used to be a common occurrence between the pair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They danced far less often now. With the scarlet painting the sky, and the empty city street once bustling with chaos dispersing, it was as if they had their own show. They both know that no one would come to try to stop them. Only if they had a death wish. The man's hair - almost representing tendrils - acts as a curtain between both him and the girl, as if they were having an intimate moment. It made the man want to gag. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl in the shadowed man’s arms swoons, making him dip down to mock a quite traditional dance. She coos something similar to speaking of how gorgeous he was, how beautiful and ethereal he looked in the lighting. The dance wasn’t perfect, and that ticked him off slightly more than the endearing tone she used, as if they were a domestic couple.. Her pigtails bounce at her giggles, and she makes him pick her up again by hitting his arm next to a bruise he had before from the same red-nailed hands he was holding. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He only sticks around because he craves, lusts for the adrenaline he had felt that one time she had displayed how despair could be indulging. He only sticks around because the girl was much like him, boredom haunting her at every corner. He only sticks around because he’s curious what can happen with her multiple flaunting personalities, her constantly changing demeanor towards him, and in the end, Enoshima is just an enigmatic figure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their dance stops becoming a dance and more of a poorly concealed chase. Enoshima had a hunters’ knife, absorbing the red from the sky, pointed towards Kamukura’s matching shade of eyes. She sing-songs his name in the most sickly voice he had ever heard. The same tone he had gotten adapted to. (He adapts to everything either way.) </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her movements are so transparent. Maybe she did that for a reason, perhaps she wanted it to be predictable. Maybe it was to see how much Izuru could do this time around, and then she pouts, frustrated at his constant dodging and orders him to stop. He does. He stops, foolishly, and watches the knife plunge into his forearm, away from his veins. He doesn't care anymore or feels concerned if he might die - he was all-talented, he'd be able to stem the bleeding after this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shade of fuschia pink is gorgeous as he watches the blood ooze from his arm. He doesn’t understand why he lets this happen, but if the injury would allow him to feel anything other than numb and apathetic, he’d allow it. It wasn’t enough. His pain endurance was notched up more than a regular talented human being and he can’t help but feel envy towards ordinary people for having what he didn’t. Despite him being an all powerful being, he still couldn’t feel emotion, something regular civilians could feel. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The blood drips down onto the pavement, adding yet another splatter of color to the gray and dull concrete. Enoshima squeezes his arm, digging the knife deeper, and just then he feels a spark of pain. He watches his skin and muscle part, make way for the intrusive knife digging into his arm. He watches as the knife digs deep enough to hit bone, and he sees the blood-coated white matter point out from all the other pieces of tendon and flesh. He feels light headed from the sudden spark of pain and realization and he watches his own blood cake Enoshima’s hands, painting her red nails pink. It makes him feel nauseous to see her lick a bit of his blood and give him a big grin after. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite all of this, they keep dancing, holding each other, trailing after one another. After all, Enoshima was a catalyst. He was foolish to believe that anything different would happen if there was not something to spark her enjoyment. If there was nothing to enthuse her, nothing new would happen. He despises this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets his arm bleed out. He lets his tapered mind wander to his own suspicions and doubts about despair. He lets Enoshima guide him to sway, lets Enoshima kiss him with the vibrant shade of lipstick painting her puckered lips. He lets Enoshima’s hands violate him, explore his not-so-human body, lets her use him, hold him, touch him- whatever she wanted, he’d have to let her. No matter what injury he had, no matter where they were, what could happen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because something he hated more than Enoshima was boredom, and God knows he’d let anything happen to him if it were from Enoshima. Perhaps this was her plan, but Kamukura can’t bring himself to care. If he was brought entertainment, something new from his apathy, he’d let her nails dig into his skin and make obscene noises and choke him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d let himself be treated lesser than human, because Enoshima was the sweetest poison he had ever lived to deal with.</p>
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